Poem by Oliver Goldsmith

Memory

O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain:

Thou, like the world, th' oppress'd oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe:
And he who wants each other blessing
In thee must ever find a foe. 

1. Italy
2. From the Latin of Vida
3. Answer to an Invitation to Pass the Christmas at Barton
4. On Seeing a Lady Perform a Certain Character
5. The Traveller

Edgar Guest Memory ("I stood and watched him playing")

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